Theological Horizons: the church in the world

Discerning the situation of the church in her contemporary contexts is no little or uncommon task. Is the church a beacon of light in a terribly dark and lost world? Are there glimmers of light in the world that might illuminate the dark corners and cobwebs of the church? Is such a dichotomy between church and world problematic in the first place? Where might the ‘borders’ of the church begin and end? These are all questions that may be asked on various occasions with differing agendas. There may be, however, other ways of discerning the church's situation in the world.  

In Church Dogmatics Karl Barth develops a concept that he deems ‘secular parables.’ He explains them to be words outside Scripture and church teaching that are in ‘material agreement with [Scripture], illumine, accentuate or explain the biblical witness in a particular time and situation’ (Church Dogmatics, IV.3.1 § 69). Barth goes on to say that such secular parables must lead the church more truly than ever before to Scripture; however, his discussion here points to the fact that the church’s ears should not be deaf to the happenings outside. Moreover, the church can even learn from the outside that the church might better understand Scripture itself. In other words, it would seem that the world outside potentially has many things to teach the church about Scripture, for Barth continues his discussion of secular parables by explaining, ‘The community is not Atlas bearing the burden of the whole world on its shoulders. For all its dedication to the cause which it represents in the world, the cause is not its own, nor does the triumph of this cause depend upon it…even within the world which opposes it, [God] will ensure, as there are always acts of His rule in general, so, too, there will be raised up witnesses to its cause, which is really His.’ The church can learn from others outside because God is working in the world through others even outside the church. This is rather striking indeed and explodes any notion of the visible church alone being a beacon of light in an impenetrably dark world. Because the cause of reconciliation is God’s cause, the church cannot monopolize reconciliation; the church would do well to listen and observe and participate in secular parables taking shape in the world outside the church precisely because in doing so the church may very well encounter and better understand God’s broad cause of reconciliation. In the process, many in the visible church may find the borders of the church seeming less clear than before.

And here, I think, Jürgen Moltmann provides some insight regarding the far reaching character of reconciliation when he explains, ‘The liberation of the believer from the prison of sin, law and death is brought about by God, not by politics, but this liberation calls for something to correspond to it in political life, so that liberations from prisons…must be understood as the parables of the freedom of faith’ (Crucified God, 320). Here Moltmann suggests that there can be not only material agreement between words of Scripture and words in the world (because they are God’s as Barth indicates) but also that there can and should be overlap between liberation from sin and liberation from political oppression. “The real presences of God acquire the character of a ‘praesentia explosiva’” (338). God’s multidimensional cause of reconciliation overflows the church into the world and overflows the world into the church. This can be the case precisely because reconciliation is God's, and consequently we may find the horizon of reconciliation and thereby the church to be broad indeed. 

Last Things Last (?): destiny illuminating the present

This month I finished classes for an M.Div. at Fuller Theological Seminary, and I must say that I have had a very stimulating few years at Fuller. Faculty, staff, and peers have made the whole experience immeasurably rewarding. I could not have asked for a better seminary experience.

When I was mapping out seminary classes, I had not intentionally planned to study eschatology at the end of my time at Fuller – roughly speaking eschatology is a fancy word for talk about stuff at the end or destiny. I suppose that it was a bit fitting for me to study eschatology at the end of my seminary education, and for my last assignment, I wrote a paper briefly outlining my reflections on the consummation of creation. Last things last. However, in the past few months and weeks, I have begun to wonder whether or not eschatology belongs at the end. Maybe it belongs near the beginning.

Over the past several years, I have studied various aspects of Jürgen Moltmann’s theology, a Reformed post-Barthian theologian. A little more than a year ago, I studied a few dimensions of Moltmann’s Christology in The Way of Jesus Christ, and this week I have begun reading Moltmann’s Theology of Hope in which he puts eschatology at the beginning of the theological task rather than at the end – in contrast Barth places eschatology on the circumference of the theological task and atonement at the center (Dogmatics, IV.1). Moltmann explains, “A proper theology would…have to be constructed in the light of its future goal” (Fortress Press, 1993, Theology of Hope, 16). Thus, Moltmann begins with eschatology.

Moltmann explains that eschatology is not merely about stuff at the end but is about hope, and he claims that eschatology is the torch that illumines the path into the future; eschatology tells the future about the present. “Hope’s statements of promise…must stand in contradiction to the reality which can at present be experienced…they do not seek to bear the train of reality, but to carry the torch before it” (18). 

Moreover, drawing Barth’s beginning and end together, Moltmann places revelation and eschatology together indicating that God does not simply reveal God’s self but reveals God’s self as the God of promise. God’s promises fuel hope for the future, and God’s promises for the future are grounded in Jesus, particularly in the resurrection of Jesus. Consequently, Moltmann places priority on hope for precisely the same earth on which and for which Christ died and was raised. Christian hope, Moltmann exclaims, “sees in the resurrection of Christ not the eternity of heaven, but the future of the very earth on which his cross stands” (21).

The future of the earth is pledged and established on the resurrection of Jesus, and this hope based on the resurrection of Jesus has implications for the present. The fulfilled future invigorates action in the unfulfilled present. Moltmann explains, “As long as hope does not embrace and transform the thought and action of men, it remains topsy-turvy and ineffective. Hence Christian eschatology must make the attempt to introduce hope into worldly thinking, and thought into believing hope” (33). Hope for the future stimulates social action and reform.

Rather than supposing eschatology to be something that belongs exclusively to the distant future attached to the rest of theology like an appendix, it may very well be the case that eschatology is the opening to theology. Talk about destiny belongs near the beginning. Telos shapes the present. Hope fuels faith and life, and more particularly hope based on the resurrection of Jesus provides concrete specificity to the sort of hope for which the church hopes. As the Nicene Creed concludes, we look forward to the resurrection of the body and the world to come. For Moltmann, however, this profession about the future belongs at the beginning, and the world for which the church hopes is the earth on which Jesus' cross stood. It may just be the case that theology is possible only because there is hope.